The Cellphone Tango
by ilithyae
Summary: Edward in a rut and is in desperate need of a little action. Enter Dr. McCarty and his trusty little prescription pad! There's nothing medical about his prescription though. Who knew doctors could prescribe phone sex operators, champagne rooms and booze? This a love letter to the play Chicago and all things jazz. AH, canon pairings, dirty talking, lemons. You know, the good stuff.
1. Doctor Knows Best

**I want to start off by thanking you for stopping by. -waves- hi! This was originally an O/S but once I got to what is now the end of Ch. 1 I realized the story wanted to expand. It won't be as long as my other WIP, _You Drive Me Wild_. **

**To those reading the story: read the ending A/N. It's beyond important. I'm not kidding.**

**Anyway, coming back to _The Cellphone Tango_, the wonderful, amazing lil hummingbird graciously agreed to beta this piece of fluff. For that I thank her; she and I share a mutual lust for Joseph Morgan, a mutual obsession with multiple cups of coffee, a mutual hate for Jessica Stanley (read her _Twilight _story to know why exactly) and a mutual love for all things Edward. You, HB are my fanfiction soulmate and I thank you every day for not rejecting my proposal. **

_**Summary: Edward in a rut and is in desperate need of a little action. Enter Dr. McCarty and his trusty little prescription pad! There's nothing medical about his prescription though. Who knew doctors could prescribe phone sex operators, champagne rooms and booze? This a love letter to the play Chicago and all things jazz. AH, canon pairings, dirty talking, lemons. You know, the good stuff.**_

******Disclaimer: This author in no way is gaining a profit from the use any published literature and/or other media. She rejects otherwise and it is for the sole entertainment of she and the website's- fanfiction dot net-** audience.

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_Doctor Knows Best_

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_"Cellophane/ Mister Cellophane/ Shoulda been my name/ Mister Cellophane/ 'Cause you can look right through me/ Walk right by me/ And never know I'm there.." **Mr. Cellophane, **_**John Kandor & Fred Ebb**

~.~.~.

Time stands still.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Or at least it feels like it does.

Another manuscript. Another used up red pen. Another stress headache. Another Advil. Another drive home. To an empty apartment where the monotony of my life continues.

After the Lean Cuisine– and I'm a man. Definitely not part of Nestlé's target demographic. Another glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, another browse through basic cable. Another shower where I jack off to images of faceless women who find me interesting and want to be with me. Another lonely, dreamless night.

The only real thing the breaks up the day was the occasional phone call to my mother and sister

~.~.~.

"_Won't you even entertain the thought?"_ Alice asked me for the third time during our ten-minute phone call. She was well-meaning, sure but it seemed that it was her life's mission to find me a girlfriend. I loved my sister dearly and I saw all of her qualities just like I saw her faults.

Having married and with a little boy all by the time she was twenty-six, Alice considered me her project. "As your big sister I need to help you out in life Edward," she would say whenever I needed help. Be it, tying my shoes, helping with my history homework even though she had no clue, asking a girl out to prom, I even when I didn't ask for help. Like now.

"Alice," I pinch the bridge of my nose as I hold my home phone to my ear. I start to feel today's stress headache come back full force. _So much for the Advil._

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can find a girlfriend all by myself? And need I remind you that you're _two minutes_ older than me?" She scoffed, "that's one-hundred-and-twenty seconds." I always reminded her whenever I brought up the difference in 'ages.'

In response her answer was always the same: _"doesn't matter. Fact is that I'm older."_ I could almost see her roll her eyes. _"Listen Edward, it's a smart thing to do. You can move out here with us and you'll get to meet my girlfriends. I know this girl-"_

I had to stop her before she could call my boss, tell him I'm quitting, putting my condo on the market, find me a 'sensible' place in Texas that 'only' costs four years of my yearly salary and send a moving service before having someone put me on a plane to Corpus Christi.

And she would.

"Alice, Alice listen to me. I'm happy here in _Seattle_. I _like _my job, and I _can_ find a girl by my-," _fucking_, "-self." It's as if my conscience believes that if I continue to repeat those words she'll actually listen. _Don't hold your breath._ _"But-"_

"No buts, that's it. I'm done talking about it." I hope my voice sounds definitive but I know better, Alice'll drop the subject for now but bring it up next time we talk. I hear her sigh before launching into a speech on how Finn, her two year old son is the most photogenic in her Mommy and Me classes at her local park and how she emailed me and Mom new photos of him in various outfits, locations, themes as he cries, laughs, wails and—once, throws up.

"_And ohmygosh! He makes the cutest little sound every time he uses the potty! It's like a little _oof_!"_ She's not done telling me about Finn's new duck costume when she changes the subject to her son's little noises. "Really?" I ask not being able to help the slightest hint of yearning.

_What would it be like to annoy the crap out of my sister about_ my _baby's bathroom habits?_ I cut through the fantasy in a second; I stop myself before I truly begin to regret not getting my nose out of my books and not learned how to talk to a woman without turning into an awkward and selective mute.

"_Yes!_" Alice screeches excitedly, "he's just too cute Edward! Check your email and open the photos I sent you—look up photo number fifty six! That's kind of like the little face he makes when he makes a pooh-pooh!"

"I will once I find my phone." I lie looking at my phone sitting on my right side table as I sit in my black leather recliner in my slate blue and black living room. The truth is that I don't want to see Finn's cute little face scrunched up in his little 'pooh-pooh' face.

I love the kid, don't get me wrong. I'm the greatest godfather/uncle in the world according to his dad. Not in the 'I'm going to plug that fucker for not paying his dues' but rather in the 'you are in charge of my son if anything were to happen to me or my husband' kind of way. But right now, right this very second I'm too depressed to let myself imagine a little auburn boy instead of a dirty blonde as he goes potty.

"_You lose that thing more than once a day!"_

"Yeah well…"

I hear movement on the line before Alice announces Jasper's return home from working at a family law firm. "_Hi honey!"_ Her voice becomes low signaling her slight departure from our conversation. "_I'm talking to Edward right now but I have dinner under the tray."_ I sigh yet again. A mixture of jealousy, sadness, and self-deprecation swims in my subconscious. "Hold on Edward, Jasper just came home!" She tells me quickly.

"Ok." I answer feebly. I look up at the blue ceiling above me, another sigh.

After a minute of murmuring and the faint cry of a toddler, Alice is back on the phone with me, "Eddie do you mind if I call you tomorrow? Finn just woke up from his little cat nap a little upset."

I wince at that stupid nickname but don't correct her. There's no use, "sure."

"Ok bye! Love you little brother."

"Love-" _Click._ "…you." I finish my meager goodbye before hitting the _End_ button myself. I hang the phone on its cradle and think about the empty life I've led.

Coming from a well-off family in Seattle, a well-established gynecologist and a sought-after architect, I'd chosen to go into the exciting field of publishing. I was what I called a figurehead executive in a small publishing house. I'd been assistant editor at Oak & Fig Publishing Inc_._ for three years now and it didn't seem like I was moving upwards.

My boss, Aro Volturi liked to make you believe he was your friend but really he was only looking out for his best interest. _Wouldn't his best interest be to let me move up? I knew I was talented and I could spot a bestseller like an oil fire in the ocean_. I just didn't understand.

I heave yet another sigh—outsiders might confuse me for someone that suffered a type of respiratory syndrome or illness. _Yet, another thing that might alienate me from the masses._

~.~.~.

"The author wants forty percent once the sales reach two hundred thou." My silver-tongued personal assistant told me. I scoffed, "we signed a contract. It stays at thirty."

"I told her that but she feels she deserves more." Piper told me. "Edward, mate she's driving me around the bend," she growled.

I sighed, I usually enjoyed her musical and colorful New Zealand accent but hearing her displeasure made me more afraid for my life than anything else. "Send her a copy of the contract with the royalties highlighted. Don't say anything on my behalf _or_ your thoughts," I look at her pointedly because there's the chance that she'll do just that. She just grins in response. "Piper, you write something like last time and you'll be boarding a plane back to Wellington."

"Who are you? ICE?" She grinned, "my paperwork is in order." She finished writing down my requests with a flourish knowing I'm kidding. Her short black hair reminds me of Alice making me wonder if I'd subconsciously hired Piper _because_ of her resemblance to my sister. The thought scares me.

"Yeah well you'll be wishing something equally as horrible if they weren't." I answer dejectedly not able to come up with anything better. She lets out a bark. Another thing she and Alice have in common, both are extremely loud.

She stands up forcing me to crane my neck. One of the _two_ things she and Alice don't share is height and age. Piper was tall drink of water at 5'11" while Alice was a petite 5'2". Piper is thirty five and Alice is twenty eight, when Alice is in town and comes by the office people confuse them as mother/daughter. Something they enjoy.

"But why do you have an accent and you don't?" Is a common question, Piper always replies with something like: "I dropped her so many times her beautiful Kiwi accent sort of fell out and now she has an uncouth American accent." People actually fall for it for about ten seconds. _Ten _seconds. That seems like an eternity.

"No wonder we have the 'stupid' stereotype."

"You're not so bad, you gave us McDonald's and obesity."

"And what did you give us, O Great New Zealander?"

"A hot personal assistant." She winked at me semi flirtatiously. _A puma through and through._

I'd rolled my eyes at the time of the conversation and I did it again as I replayed it in my head. "Earth to Edward," present Piper snapped her fingers in front of me, "oh good you're still with us. Listen I need to go to the dairy after work, is it all right if I send Webber and her agent this _totally _and _absolutely _professional reminder and head out?"

"You mean the convenience store?" I cock my eyebrow grinning. We had a game going. We would use as much slang from our respective countries and see if the other could figure it out. Unfortunately, she caught mine and deciphered them better than I hers because of American saturation in the world's media. I knew the common British terms they shared with Oceania but the score was in her favor.

She smirks, getting up from her chair. "Good on you mate, you got it."

"Barely."

"So Bossman," she looked over her notes, "is that all?"

"Yes," I nod looking at my own paperwork, "don't forget I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow at nine and I won't be in 'til ten thirty."

"I have it written down." She nods, "Dr. McCarty's married right?"

"Yes." I raise my eyes but keep my neck down hoping I look serious. "Don't you dare hit on my cousin's husband Piper." She waves her notepad dismissively as she turns for the door, "I can take that Barbie wannabe."

"She's knows five different martial arts _and_ is a personal trainer. I'm sure she can take you."

"Whatevs."

"What are you? Thirteen?"

"Oh shut up and get back to work!" I could hear her laughing as she closed the door behind her. I chuckled going back to my own work. Piper kept me sane and for some reason she was the only woman I wasn't intimidated by even though she was known to but nutcracker. And by nutcracker I mean a ballbuster.

I roll my eyes at my inner monologue. _Way to describe a word only to replace it with an equally vague term_. "Ugh." I put my pen down and rub my eyes. _Why is this important?_

I manage to finish my work and leave the office for the day. I don't run into Aro or his equally false brothers Marcus and Caius for which I am internally grateful to the powers above. I walk to my reliable Honda and drive home.

Again, I run through my day. Another manuscript, another headache, another realization that I'm driving home to an empty apartment with an equally empty bed.

I get to a red light as the common overcast sky began to release water droplets. _Another rainy day in Seattle._

"'_And then he ran into my knife…he ran into my knife ten times!'_" Someone sang-yelled in the car next to me. I'd been so caught up in my self-wallowing I hadn't noticed the loud music coming from the beat-up red flatbed truck next to me.

I did a double-take. _What the hell? Why do I feel like I stepped back into a fifties farm in Alabama? _The truck was old and the paint was peeling off and missing its 'new' paint veneer although I doubted that truck had much of anything 'new.'

"'_If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it I betcha you would have done the same!'"_ I was able to make out a young brunette singing along to a familiar tune, she had humor and concentration all over her face. She must have felt someone looking at her because she turned in my direction and let her bottom lip fall.

_I can't really make out her face,_ I think to myself, _but I think she might be cute…_

I have a feeling she was embarrassed for being caught staring so I turn back to my windshield and stare at the red light with unneeded intensity. The light changes and I drive off feeling bad for staring and consequently causing her to feel embarrassed. _But if she didn't want to be stared at, why then is she singing at the top of her lungs?_ I can't help but grin as I remember her mouth drop when she looked at me.

Something about it makes me want to smile and I don't know why.

~.~.~.

"Ok," Emmett McCarty looked over my chart, we were in his office after my routine checkup. I'd just come back from changing into my street clothes, thankful I didn't have to be in that flimsy hospital gown much longer. "Seems like you're all good, man."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nods flipping over a page to look at another, "your vitals are up. Blood pressure's fine,

sugars are normal. There's really nothing to report other than keep up the good work. There are still some tests we need to send to the lab but I'm sure you're fine."

"Why do I have these headaches then?"

"Stress." He tells me simply, putting down my test results, "you have to find ways to relieve it Edward."

"I go to the gym, _Rose's_ gym and I work if off." He smiles weakly, "I laugh as much as I can—Piper's crazy comments do that, I bring as little work home as possible. I don't understand."

"I know you do but sometimes that's not enough." He looks at me and I noticed something flash in his eyes before he replaced it with a serious face. I didn't like that. "What?"

"When was the last time you had intercourse?"

I coughed on air. I didn't see my doctor then, I saw my friend. "Emmett!"

"I'm not asking you as your buddy, I'm asking you as your doctor. Notice how I used 'intercourse' and not 'laid'? Mature word versus friendly word."

"You shouldn't be saying sex in that context if you're not old enough to have it so both are mature words." He shook his head, "whatever. So tell me, as your doctor I'm asking. When was the last time you had _intercourse_?" He looks at my chart again. "You've been tested for all STD's twice this year, both times came clean. The thing is, these are routine not requested tests." He looked at me pointedly.

"Bree was my last." I tell him feeling sorry for myself. My ex who cheated on me with a pilot—the traveling salesman of this generation. Emmett nodded looking serious, scribbling something down in his prescription pad. _Was he prescribing me muscle relaxers? Was this ethical? Was this legal?_ _But then again, what does me not having sex have to do with my stress levels?_

"Here," he hands me the note, I take it gingerly and almost rip it once I read it.

_For tonight- Call 1800.102.6990. Ask for Jezebells._

_For tomorrow- Go to Pussycat with Emmett and Garrett and enter the Champagne Room. (THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT MR. CULLEN- Don't forget to get wasted, you've never gotten wasted.)_

_Take small doses every other day—with or without the Thunder Twins._

"What the-" _fuck_ "-is this?" I throw the offending paper in front of him. "Easy, easy Eddie." He grabs the paper looking at his closed door. "This is for you to see and stash away. You know how much trouble I could get if the board sees this on my prescription pad in my writing?"

"You'd deserve it."

"Come on man," he groans, "I know I said I was your doctor and I was asking you as such but I couldn't help myself." I wait for the grin, the guffaw, the teasing but they don't come. "You're my friend and I want to help you."

"You know I can't pick up women, and besides what's up with that?"

"Bree really put you through the ringer huh?" He looks at me, folding the note into eights and drops it in the front pocket of his white robe. _Dr. Emmett McCarty MD_ proudly etched in blue over it.

"It's been a year and even then you know Bree was a fluke." I tell him referring to the fact that she'd been my first girlfriend. My first everything.

I'd met her at UDub our sophomore year and for some reason she found me 'cute.' I was comfortable around her, sharing our mutual love for all things literature. This escalated and right before I was asked to be assistant editor, we moved in together. She'd gotten a more lucrative job as copy editor at Scholastic. Not because of her position but because Scholastic was a national publishing house whereas Oak & Fig was a small private business. She had a better possibility of going up than I did. And she knew it.

We were comfortable with each other, I'd thought our sex life was good that is until Captain Newton knocked on my door asking for Bree. At first she denied the affair but after looking at my sorry excuse of a face she admitted it.

I may be a lot of things but I knew I couldn't be with someone that didn't want to be with me. She'd expected me to wallow and beg but instead I moved out gave her the apartment and left. I'd heard from the grapevine she'd told everyone she'd left me and asked for the apartment but I knew better.

She thought I rolled over but I knew her paycheck wouldn't be able to handle the lease, no matter who she worked for. _I guess being an assistant editor's paycheck is better than a copy editor's when you take away the names and stare at the ink._

Not wanting to be taken advantage of again, I threw myself in my work and forgot about women in general. Not that I had a line of women waiting for Bree and I to break up—I would've been lucky to see tumbleweed in their place. I'd been a nerd all my life, like I said Bree was a fluke and even then she wasn't happy with me.

But a year later, I was now missing the companionship and even wishing for children.

I was a sorry excuse of a man.

"What's the phone number for?" I ignored the Emmett's question wanting to get off the subject.

Although asking for clarification on his 'prescription' was somewhat counterintuitive. "It's the sex phone center I used to call in college before I met Rose."

I rolled my eyes. I should have known. _A one-eight-hundred number telling me to ask for 'Jezebells' and the general tone of his idiotic prescription should have told me that._

"You know 'Jezebells' personally?" I raised an eyebrow, Emmett grinned. "No, she was a college classmate and she worked for this place while she went to Dartmouth."

"A doctor too?" I asked finding it comical that a faceless doctor might have a secret life as a phone sex operator. "Or a businesswoman?"

"Nope, Theater Major. She's a Washington native too, that's why we hit it off. Last I heard she moved back here after she got her Major and now works at the Fifth Avenue Theater. As a matter of fact, Rose and I are going to see _Chicago_ next week. I think she's in it."

"Cool." I said dismissively to the updated info he had on Jezebells. "If she's a successful theater actress why recommend I ask for her assuming I take your ill-advised instruction?"

"Because knowing her, she'd still want to 'hone her acting skills.'" He shrugged, "you know how actors are, always wanting to be more believable. You get your kicks and she gets experience talking dirty."

"Thanks Em." I answered him dryly and feeling slightly offended. "Rub it in." He slid back in his chair and looked at me with a shocked expression. "Sorry I didn't mean it that way."

"No, no. We all know sex operators fake it. I just don't appreciate your recommendation, college friend or not."

"Edward-"

"Leave it." I grabbed my briefcase and coat from the empty chair next to me. "Yes, I haven't slept with someone in a year and yes I'm a lonely loser who needs emotional charity from his friends. But I have my pride."

"Dude-"

"I'll see you later. Piper's calling me already." I told him glancing at my Android. _Piper Davis_ and her photo showed up on my screen. "Edward, please man. I just want to-"

"See you this weekend at my parents' house."

I left not bothering to feel bad and answered Piper's call. "_I thought you wouldn't answer._" She ignored my 'hello' and went straight to the reason why she was calling. I appreciated the fact. "_Webber's agent wants to talk to you ASAP, apparently she's gone AWOL until we reach a more __'desirable' compromise."_

The stress headache came out from hiding and I wasn't even at work yet. I threw myself into solving the ever-growing Webber problem and hoped Aro wouldn't find out about the trouble one of our star authors was causing.

~.~.~.

Three days, three Advils, the reappearance of a reluctant writer and no relief in sight later I was driving to my parents' house in Pinehurst for their monthly family dinner. Another Saturday night deflecting questions about my personal life or lack thereof, stalled professional life and all around sad state of affairs.

Rosalie, my cousin and Emmett's wife opened the door when I rang the bell. "This is your parents' house Edward." She told me taking my coat, "why knock?"

"I don't know. I haven't lived here for ten years."

"Everyone else walks in and they've never lived here take away the holiday weekends and family reunions."

"I don't know Rose." I shrugged not knowing what to say. "I respect my parents' privacy I guess." She shook her head making her long straight hair move delicately. Rose was what people considered stunningly beautiful. Tall, naturally thin, high cheekbones, chilled blue eyes and beautiful blond hair made her the stereotypical supermodel type.

She didn't take much advantage of her beauty but she didn't shy away from it either. Her physique had helped her become a successful physical trainer. Women wanted to look like her and men wanted to look _at_ her.

_Thank god Emmett is a confident guy._ I thought as I walked through my parents' foyer into the tastefully decorated living room. Rose's parents, Uncle Rob and Aunt Jenny were having a heated conversation with Garrett, Emmett's twin brother.

"Tell me, what's the point then? Other than shenanigans and venereal diseases?" Rob asked moving his hand, unfortunately he had a glass of whiskey in his hand and it sloshed around. Apparently that wasn't the only thing that was sloshed.

"The shenanigans." Garrett answered dryly and sarcastically. I grinned to myself, Garrett and at one time Emmett too—was a well-known playboy. He gave Charlie Harper and Charlie Sheen for that matter, a run for their money. And they sure as hell had a lot of money, fictional or otherwise. "My twin brother is a doctor so I don't have to worry about not getting regular testing."

"Well at least he's honest." Aunt Jenny said lifting her own drink and bowing slightly. Garrett smiled. Aunt Jenny had the same reputation when she'd been growing up. "Hey Edward!" He smiled coming over to me and slapping me on my back. He blew the wind out of me making him laugh.

The McCarty brothers were a hearty pair even though Emmett was bulky and Garrett was slight. Kind of like how Alice was tiny and I was tall. "Emmett tells me we're going to Pussycat in your honor."

_Great._

"No sorry," I wheezed still trying to find my voice, "he has it wrong."

"Really?" Garrett's face fell, "and here I thought I would finally see the dirty side of Edward A Cullen!"

"Excuse me?" My mother's voice was heard from the entrance to the living room, _greeaaat._

"Hey Mom." I smiled going to her and ignoring the conversation entirely. She smiled warmly and extended her arms to me. I leaned down and hugged her, kissing her cheek in the process. The faint smell of honeysuckle and roses filled my senses. I sighed contently feeling comforted.

I was almost thirty and I still needed a hug from my mom to feel better. Sue me.

"Hey sweetie, I've missed you." We parted but she held my shoulders studying my face. "You haven't called and I know you spoke to Alice last week."

"I'm sorry but I've been swamped at work."

"So that means you're not able to take five minutes from your busy schedule to let your mother know you're eating and sleeping well?" I felt five again as I looked at the tiny woman that was my mother.

"Which by the way, it looks like you haven't." She looked me over disapprovingly.

"Mom, I've been well." I tried pulling away but she held on to me, "you don't _look_ well. Look at you."

"Leave him be Esme." My father walked in with Emmett in tow, I gave him a thankful glance to which he returned with a knowing look. "I'm sure you'll fix him right up."

"Hey Dad." Mom actually let me go and clicked her tongue; I walked to him and hugged him too. Instead of honeysuckle and roses, I smelled leather and whiskey. _I guess today is the day to get plastered._

"Hey Eddie." Emmett grinned, I winced. He knew how much I hated that stupid nickname. "Hey Emmett."

"So what's this about the dirty side of you Edward?" Mom asked me, I knew she would eventually.

"Nothing, Garrett is just being an idiot."

"Hey!"

Emmett laughed going to Rose, "couldn't agree more."

"Well now that everyone's here let's have dinner." Mom told us clapping her hands and looking suspicious.

Once we were seated and eating, the questions began, "so tell us Edward," Uncle Rob asked, "anyone special to brag about?"

"No." I looked at my half-eaten chicken primavera decidedly. "Really?" He asked with an amused tone, I didn't like it one bit. "Really." I drank half of my wine in one gulp for something to do.

"Edward, I heard Angela Webber sold two hundred thousand copies." Rosalie commented nervously. I knew she was trying to stop her father from embarrassing her further. I nodded briskly, "Three hundred actually, yesterday." Something that should have made me happy since I was the one that pushed the Volturi brothers to publish the first Angela Webber's teen fantasy series.

It was so popular that six months after publishing we were backlogged with orders from all over the English-speaking world and had various requests from international houses for the rights to translate.

Oak & Fig was becoming a powerhouse, not to toot my own horn but like J.K. Rowling and a lowly personal assistant, the big wigs had declined the first manuscript of Angela's until I got a hold of it and gave her some notes.

She fixed it and after a lot of convincing Caius gave it a second look and asked Aro to publish it. The only issue was Angela's growing ego and desire for more royalties. She deserved it yes, but she was asking way too much. _And she hasn't even started on the sequel._

_Which reminds me._

I covertly typed up a text to Angela bypassing Piper, **Angela, I need the first fifteen chapters of the sequel by the end of the month. Edward A Cullen.**

"Edward?" Rose called my attention. I stowed my phone away and looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked you if the rumors are true about the movie?"

"Sorry?"

"I read in one of the tabloids that Hollywood is interested in making the book into a movie. That could mean a lot for you and O&F right?"

"Oh yeah." I nodded lamely. Aro had been over the moon and was personally handling the Hollywood machine something I was thankful for. I was an editor not a producer.

"So it's true?" My father asked, very interested.

"Yes."

"Wow." Aunt Jenny said looking impressed, "weren't you the one to discover this author?"

"Somewhat."

"Don't be humble Edward. You know you worked with her and fixed her mistakes." Rose told me, I grinned and said nothing. I guess I wasn't such a loser. My phone buzzed in my pocket, knowing it was Angela since I didn't text unless it was business.

"I'm not trying to be humble," I told Rose cutting a piece of my juicy chicken, "Angela is a great author, I just wish she didn't lose sight of the ground."

"Ooh one of those huh?" Garrett laughed apologetically. I nodded wanting for a change of subject, thankfully Mom noticed and steered the conversation in Garrett's cellphone repair shop. Even though it wasn't as noteworthy as his brother's medical career, he made very good money with the too-common smartphone spider screens and selling accessories. He made a very good living that was for sure.

I looked at my phone. **Edward, I haven't had time for the sequel; you know how it is. Angela.**

Feeling a surge of anger I typed away, **no I don't know how it is. Fifteen chapters. Self-edited. ****End of the month. Edward A Cullen.**

I felt another headache coming; I'd promised Aro Angela would present the first draft of the sequel in a month and a half having asked a-still unknown Angela who promised to work on it right away. That was before her instant fame got in the way. _Well, I guess I'm going to have to remind Angela where __she was six months ago._

**I called Aro and he told me to work on the sequel after the European book tour. Angela Webber.**

_Motherfu-! She went behind my back and undermined me. _Feeling a hot surge of anger and ignoring everyone I typed an angry text. **You spoke to Aro about _our_ agreement? Why? You and I signed a contract stipulating the publishing schedule. You promised me you would get right to it last October. Right after your creditors repo'ed your car and right before you were evicted from your studio apartment. Edward A Cullen. **It was almost three text pages but I didn't care. I knew that it wasn't the time to email her instead, she wouldn't answer.

"Edward honey?" Mom called me out, I looked at her trying to control the bubbling anger. "What's the matter?"

"A prima donna writer."

"Oh."

"What's she up to?" Emmett asked furring his bushy eyebrows, everyone mirrored his expression. "We signed a contract at the beginning of our venture that the trilogy would have a set release schedule. We're six months in and still no chapters; she went behind my back to talk to Aro and even though he calls the shots I feel like she ratted me out to the principal. It's very unprofessional."

"So when does she expect to write it?"

"After the book tour ends. The problem is that because of the first book's success, it's been extended to Europe and Australia."

"I thought she already completed it." Rose drank her wine; I nodded reminding her it'd just mentioned its expansion. "Oh. Right."

"I know it's not a big deal but like I said, it bothers me that she is proving to be so unprofessional. It could cause problems in the long run." I noted kicking myself for monopolizing my mother's dinner and consequently showing my family and friends what a push over I was.

The anger rose and I felt the contents of my stomach stir in a very unpleasant way. I got up, "I'm sorry Mom but I think I'm going to excuse myself." I got up wanting to be alone. "Honey you're leaving?"

"Yes." I sighed, "I apologize to all of you for this but I'd rather be alone and muse things over in my own space." Mom and Dad got up looking concerned but I just made myself into the anteroom and found my coat in the coatroom off the entrance. "I'll call you tomorrow." I said to Mom noticing Rose walking up to us.

"Can't you talk to this Angela and make her see reason?"

"I plan to ask her to come into my office tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday son, I doubt she'll agree." I cursed internally, slapping my hand to my forehead. I needed to nip this in the bud and I had a feeling Angela would only get worse if I didn't. "Monday's around the corner, don't worry."

"Yeah." I slugged my coat on and made my way out, "wait Edward, I need to talk to you." Rose said as I opened the large glass-paneled doors to my parent's small Macmansion. I nodded saying goodbye to my parents once again before they made their way back to their guests in the dining room. "What's up Rose?"

"I uh…" She inched forward, her high heels clicking on the white tile floor, "I found this in Emmett's white coat." She extended a tightly folded square. Remembering that Emmett had put his 'prescription' there I knew that's what it was. I shook my head in defeat, now my gorgeous cousin who had to fight off advances knew that I was dry. _Great._

"I know," she rushed out, "I know you didn't want people to find out especially about Emmett's stupid advice but I think you should take it."

"What?" I gaped at her not knowing what to think.

"Listen, that's why porn exists right? And sex toys." She shrugged still having the little white square extended out for me to take in between her perfect melon pink nails. I stared at it feeling it mocking me. "What are you trying to say?"

"Emmett told me after I almost clobbered him with an iron-clad skillet thinking it was for him—you know how he is. I thought he'd used his prescription pad as a notepad." I relieved Emmett of some anger and indignation, after all we'd been in his office and the sanctity of the doctor-patient relations was intact no matter how said doctor and patient knew each other. "I know it's personal but I think you should do it."

"Why?"

"Because everyone needs a little release if you know what I mean."

"You're telling me to whore myself around?"

"No," she shook her head, "but everyone's had one night stands and/or used someone for personal gratification."

"I can't believe you're telling me this!" I gasped stepping away slightly; she looked at the floor but didn't seem to feel apologetic about her words. "The Pussycat has regular testing, I know because some of the girls go to Emmett's hospital and he's treated one or two. I also know the owner because she was a client of mine when I first opened the gym, and she has strict rules the girls must abide by."

"So?"

"Take advantage." She shrugged holding my gaze. My mouth dropped not knowing what to say. "These girls do this because it's a job and men—and some women, do this for various reasons. Everybody wins."

"I don't think so." I scoffed turning around and walking out. I thought the conversation was over but Rosalie followed me out. "Here."

"No."

"Take it Edward." I stalked off to my car feeling the cold wind pick up, there would be another drizzle over the night. I unlocked my car and jumped in, Rose flung the square in and I didn't bother to throw it out then. She would just pick it up and find a way to give it to me another day. _I'll throw it out once I get home._

"I love you Cuz!"

"Right!" I yelled in response keeping my eyes away from hers. I drove off to my apartment near Pike Place Market pushing everything away. I didn't need anything other than a hot shower, a drink and sleep. _Yeah right._

~.~.~.

I stared at the unfolded paper as it faced the ceiling on my coffee table. I'd changed into a threadbare shirt and basketball shorts since I didn't like walking around in boxers. I was nursing a double scotch in between my standoff with a white a piece of paper.

"Rose and Emmett act like you're my salvation."

Silence.

"Are you?"

Silence.

I chuckled at myself, taking a deep pull from my glass. The delicious, warm alcohol coats my dry mouth, "so I'm a loser."

Silence.

"This makes me an even bigger loser. Look at me," I said to no paper in particular, "talking to an inanimate object!"

Silence.

"What would happen if I _do_ call? What would happen if I _do _go to Pussycat and convince one with one of its wonderful employees to fuck me?" I don't verbally curse and for me to vocalize the F word is out of my element. Consider my mother's attempt to keep Alice and I 'clean." Alice curses like a sailor but only when Mom and Dad aren't around. I on the other hand keep it to myself.

I stare at the paper for another 'response.'

Silence.

I drink again, this time thinking about the possibilities. My cock is hard now thinking about faceless women dancing above me in tiny outfits as suggestive music plays in the background. I groan feeling it twitch. _It's been so long._

I look at the clock on my mantle and see that it's still early enough to go to Pussycat but then I hear the rolling water outside and the fact that I'm on my second double and I know there's no way in hell

I'm driving like this. I groan at myself.

Just when I decide to take the unrequested advice of my cousin and her husband, I shoot myself in the foot by drinking too much.

I feel warm and somewhat relaxed as I reach for the piece of paper and dial the phone number without further thought. A sexy voice greets me, I ask for Jezebells and I'm told she's long stopped working for that call center. "Would you like me to connect you to another one of our _very _sexy and _capable_ girls?"

"No." I hear myself say, "I want Jezebells."

"Are you sure, baby?"

_Why the fuck is she calling me 'baby'?_

"Yes. They told me she's a good actress." The woman lets out a free laugh, "we exotic performers aren't actresses baby."

"I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to Jezebells."

"I see you're a little drunk darling," she giggles, I wince remembering how Mom calls me darling every now and then. _There goes any type of sexual fantasy with this one._ "But since you want to talk to Jez I'll give you the last phone number she left with us when she moved back home."

"Where am I calling?"

"New Hampshire."

"Oh." _Right. She went to Dartmouth._

"Are you ready?"

"Hold on." I groaned feeling my semi-flaccid cock as I moved extended my hand to grab the famous prescription note and retrieved a pen from my nearby briefcase. "Go ahead."

* * *

**I wonder if Jezebells is on call ;)**

**_YDMW _NOTE: If you're reading it please go to my blog at ilithyae dot blogspot dot com and read the most recent posting. IT IS IMPORTANT!**


	2. No Manual Included

**There are no excuses to why I took so long to update all I can say is that I'm sorry. But I hope to make it up to you now.**

**The fantabulous lil hummingbird beta'd this. I threw her a piece of lumber and she made a dining set, a grandfather clock and a little armoire with it :D**

**Hope you like this :)**

* * *

_No Manual Included_

* * *

_"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle/ Razzle Dazzle 'em/ Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it/ And the reaction will be passionate/ Give 'em the old hocus pocus/ Bead and feather 'em/ How can they see with sequins in their eyes?"- Razzle Dazzle, **John Kandor & Fred Ebb.**_

~.~.~.

"_Hello?" _Said the female voice on the other end of the phone line.

_Shit. I'm actually doing this?_ I expected a gritty, jaded voice but I'm met with a soft, melodic voice. All she said was 'hello' and I'm already speechless. _Literally._

"_You don't want to say anything?" _There's light teasing behind her voice, not in a condescending way but in a more playful way.

I clear my throat, I want an image.

"What do you look like?" I blurt wanting to beat my head against the wall.

"_Sorry?"_ She asks surprised.

"U-u-um…" I stutter feeling my heart beat painfully against my chest. My palms are clammy and the alcohol makes my almost-empty stomach, lurch.

"_I'm a redhead."_

For some reason this disappoints me. _I like brunettes_. I think on the tail-end of my buzz.

"_Do you like redheads?"_ She sounds curious, not wanting to offend her I tell her I do. It's not that I don't like redheads… I just prefer brunettes.

"_That's good. Tell me a bit about yourself, you sound… interesting."_

"I do?" I croak. I sat down when my call went through and I felt like I had to sit down. My phone shook in my hand but I felt a thrill deep inside when she said I sounded 'interesting.'

"_You do."_ She agrees and I hope her tone is as honest as I make it out to be.

"You sound interesting too." I offer quietly, wishing I don't sound like an idiot.

She giggles a carefree giggle that makes the corners of my lips curl. I let myself fantasize that this woman isn't faking her interest, like all other desperate men who call her. I'll let that feeling roll through me. It feels good, for a brief moment, even though it's a lie.

_That's why I called right? For the fantasy? Besides, I'm paying her for this, might as well get the most bang for my buck. _

"You might be wondering why I'm calling you," I start wanting to clear the air but something tells me to keep my mouth shut.

She interrupts me before I can say anything further, _"no it's ok. I don't need to know."_

"You don't?"

"_No, I mean no offense,"_ she says hurriedly, _"but I personally believe you don't have to explain yourself. You found my number, felt you needed to call me and here we are."_

Feeling the awkwardness my subconscious had been trying to warn me against, I say nothing and wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. The veil is gone and here I sit with a phone to my ear with a lovely-sounding woman who gets paid to talk sweet or dirty things to me.

"_I take it this is the first time into the business?" _She asks, playful again. '

The business' is a nice way of saying 'a phone sex operator' but who am I to judge. I'm just as bad as she is and even then is this really bad? We're just talking.

"Yes." My voice shakes slightly as I bow my head sheepishly. I feel stupid now and I'm ready to apologize and hang up but what she says next surprises me.

"_You should hang up_."

"What?" I snap my neck up imagining she's standing in front of me. A tall, voluptuous redhead—a Jessica Rabbit-type and I feel stupid and chauvinistic for doing so.

"_You should. You don't sound like one of them."_ Her voice is serious and as-a-matter-of-fact.

"One of them?" It seems like I've resorted to echoing questions but my mind is reeling wanting to know why she would want me to hang up. I mean she needs me to keep this up, _literally_.

"_You don't sound like my usual caller."_

"Is that a bad thing?" I see my life before my eyes but not in a death kind of way. Here I am, being rejected by a woman yet again. It's even worse that she is faceless. I glance around my darkened living room, the only light comes in through streetlights outside giving the room an eerie silver glow.

"_No_." She sounds like she's thinking about it, _"that's not a bad thing."_

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. This woman should be telling me to stay, to elongate this conversation as much as possible because she wants to get as much money from my call as possible.

Instead, here she is telling me to hang up because I'm not _'one of them'_ and that's a _good thing_?

Taking a deep breath and feeling the tiny lick of rejection fuel me, I say, "I don't want to hang up. I could be 'one of them.'"

"_What do you mean?"_

"I said," exhaling loudly, I gather the little courage I possess and barrel through, hoping in the back of my mind that she doesn't laugh at me. "I could be one of them. One of your other callers."

"_Really?"_ I hear the disbelief laced around her beautiful, clear voice. There's also a tone of curiosity too.

"Yes." My voice quivers, my nerves are making me jittery as I begin tapping my right hand on my thigh to no particular beat.

"I could also tell you how… hard I am." It's a little lie since my cock has softened since her faux rejection. I want to see how far my 'courage' can take me though so I continue. "I want to."

"_Then do it."_ She tells me, not as a request but as a challenge. The woman on the other side doesn't believe that the man speaking to her wouldn't.

I bite my lip feeling the desire to prove her wrong flare and I go for it. "I'm hard." I accepted her nonverbal challenge with those words.

"_Are you?_" Her voice is soft but falsely unassuming, there's more to her question than the obvious.

"Y-yes, yes I am." I clear my throat looking at the growing bulge between my legs.

"I've never done this before." I admit quietly, feeling embarrassed yet again.

"_You haven't?"_ It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"N-no. But I'm supposed to tell you how hard I am or something. That's how this works right?

She laughs_, "only if you want to."_

"I want to."

"_Then tell me."_

"What?"

"_That you're hard. Because you're hard right?"_ Another verbal challenge.

"Yes I am."

"_It wasn't so difficult was it?"_

"Somewhat." I confess.

"_You're adorable."_

Adorable? Not really what I was going for. God, I can't even get this right. "That's not what I was striving for."

"_What were you striving for?"_

"I… I don't know, something more… sexy." Okay, calling myself sexy makes me uncomfortable. It sounds wrong.

"_Well _I_ thought it was sexy." _

I was caught off guard by her response. "What was?"

"_The fact that you're so adorable."_

"You find my adorableness sexy?" My four years at U-Dub, the next four at Stanford and my few years at Oak & Fig flaunt right there and then. _My professors and bosses would be proud._

"_Very."_

"Really? " I swallow the lump in my throat. I can't tell if she is being honest or if she is acting, well doing her job.

"_Absolutely."_

"You're just saying that."

"_Why would you say that?" _Her voice sounded genuinely shocked.

"Because, isn't this your job, to tell me what I want to hear?"

She doesn't answer my question. Instead she asks,_ "What's your name?"_

"My name?"

"_Yes. Your name."_

"Anthony." I say right away. Why did give her middle name?

"_Anthony. That's so… mmmm…"_

That sound… I had to suppresses a groan. "You like my _'name'_?"

"_Yes. There aren't a lot of Anthonys. I've met a lot of Mikes, Jakes, Tylers, Erics but you're my first Anthony."_

I'm her first Anthony. I smile. I like that. Then a sudden wave of anxiety washes over. _What if there will _be other_ Anthonys?_ I don't like that idea.

"Jezebells?"

"_Call me Bells."_

"Ok. Bells. Is it presumptuous of me to want to be your only Anthony?"

She giggles_ again, _and it goes straight to my dick like an laser_. "Are you sure you need my help? You sound so… smooth."_

I started to laugh but I stop myself. I don't want to make her feel bad. "Smooth? Me? _Right."_

"_No, I'm serious Anthony. You have such a smooth voice it makes my panties wet."_

"You're just saying that."

"_No, I'm not Anthony. I really am wet for you."_

"Really?" Part of me wants to believe so very badly.

"_Yes. Are you still hard for me?"_

"No." I answered honestly.

"_No?" _She sounded shocked and maybe a little…hurt?

"No. I was hard for Jezebells but I want to know Bells. Does that make sense?"

"_Yes because I wasn't wet for the caller but now I'm wet for Anthony." _She laughs.

"The caller?"

"_The generic person that morphed into you, Anthony."_

"You say my name with a caress." I blurt out.

"_Because you sound like a gentleman." _How can she think I'm a gentleman when I'm calling her for phone sex?

"Do you think I'm a gentleman?"

"_Uh huh. You sound like you would take care of me if we were in front of each other." _She is right about that, I would.

"You would run away at my awkwardness."

"_You're not awkward_."

"Yes I am. Very much so. I'm only able to talk to you because we're not face to face. But if we were, I would be in the corner, drinking scotch and not say anything."

"_I don't know what you look like, but if I were to hear your voice alone I would want to get to know you."_

"Really?"

"_Yes_."

"What else would you do?"

_"__If we were at a bar_ _I would pull you to a dark corner, and run my hands all over your body."_ There is that purring again.

"How do you imagine me?"

"_Tall, young and stunning." _She pauses for a moment and then let's out a small laugh_. "Should I me asking you this?"_

"Should I be?"

"_It's usually how it goes, but I like this. I like how the tables have turned. Are you a blonde?"_

"No, I have auburn hair. People say I have an odd copper color with hints of blonde and brown."

"_Oh, that sounds nice_."

"Nice?"

"_Yes. Are you tall?"_

"6'2"."

"_Hmmm…" _

I wonder if she likes tall men. I clears my throat and ask,"do you like that?"

"_Yes, very much so."_

"Why?"

"_Because it's different. Like Anthony."_

I like that that answer. A lot.

"_Do you work out?"_

"Would you not like me if I didn't?"

"_No, of course not but I want a visual."_

"I do." The fact that she wants a visual makes my stomach drop and my dick harder.

"_You do?"_

"Yes. Not as much as my cousin and her husband but I work out twice a week."

"_Your cousin is a gym rat?"_

I laugh, "you could say that but not with the negative connotation. She owns a gym."

"_That's cool. She must be a hardass."_

"She is."

"_Does she have copper hair too?"_

"No. She's a natural platinum blonde."

"_Why did you make the distinction of her having natural blonde hair?"_

"Because isn't it common for women to assume platinum blonde is dyed?"

"_You make a valid point but I wouldn't have thought that she was a bottle blonde."_

"Really?" I find that hard to believe, most people do.

"_Yeah you're right. I would have thought that." _This time we both laugh_. "But don't make assumptions like that. Girls won't flock to you with those types of assumptions."_

"I'm sorry. It's just that she gets so many jeers from other women. My sister tells me it's just jealousy but I don't know."

"_I agree with your sister, women can be bitchy."_

"Are you..? Are _you_… bitchy?"

"_I'm a woman right?"_

"God, I hope you are." Suddenly I became very nervous that I've been duped and was talking to a man.

She laughs loudly. "_I am. I am a woman. If I was a man I wouldn't have a very feminine voice right?"_

"Ever heard of Ronaiah Tuiasosopo? He could do a pretty good impression of a woman if you believe everything that came out."

Her laughter dies down to giggles. "_Touché. But I really am a woman, I promise. Anyway, I won't say I'm not bitchy because that's not true. So in answer to your original question, I_ could_ be."_

"Because you're a woman? "

"_Yes, because I'm a woman."_

I knit my eyebrows together. "I think you're being harsh on your own gender."

"_That sounds kind of familiar…" _She comments to herself.

"It does?"

"_Yes. I can't think of where I've heard something to that effect somewhere else."_

"Another caller maybe?" She doesn't realize the thought of her other callers makes me feel slightly jealous. Not that I have a right to be.

"_No, it's not like that."_

"How many calls do you get a night?" _Stupid, I chastise myself. _Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

"_Um… why do you ask?"_

"I don't know," I mentally kick myself, "curiosity maybe?

"_Are you asking me that or are you answering me? _

"It depends."

"_On?"_

"Are you mad I asked?"

"_No, I'm not."_

"Then it's an answer."

She laughs. I exhale, feeling relieved that I haven't upset her.

"_It depends on the night."_

"Sorry?"

"_The amount of calls I get. It depends on the night; there's no set number. "_

I furrow my forehead with slight anger. _She doesn't have a set salary?_

"But you work at the thea- but you work in the day right? " _Dammit!_ I almost letting it slip.

"_I… do…" She asks warily. _

"So it doesn't really matter then."

"_How did you get my number anyway?" _She questions.

"Um…" _Shit, this is not good._ "A friend referenced me to you."

"_A friend?_ " Her voice sounds defensive.

"Yes, he's one of your callers." Close enough.

"_Really? What's his name? I want to thank him."_

"Thank him?"

"_Yes. Because let's face it, he's helping me out in more ways than one. So… what's his name?"_

"I only know his real name; I don't know the name he gave you." I lie, sweating and wishing I sound believable.

"_Oh. I see…"Yeah she's not buying it. I can't tell her that it's Emmett. _

"I have to go Bells." I need to get out now while I can otherwise this could turn ugly. _I'm such a coward._

"_You do?" _She sounded surprise and maybe a little disappointed. I shake my head._ She's only disappointed because you're not spending any more money._

"Yes. I have to go in to work early and I'm beat."

"_Ok Anthony._" Her voice sounds distant.

I don't really know who to end this. I have fallen right back into the awkwardness again. "Ummm… Thank you for the time." You can never go wrong with using your manners and being polite, right?

She laughs, "_thank you for calling."_

"You're welcome."

"_You're welcome too." I sit on the line a little longer. Do I just hang up? _

"Bye." I say quickly.

"_Sleep well Anthony."_

"You too Bells."

"_Bye." _She says and then pauses.

"Bye." I say again and then hang up.

_Damn. I ruin everything don't I?_ Instead of phone sex I managed to have a weird and awkward conversation with her. She must think I'm such a fucking loser.

_Great. Just great._

* * *

**Reviews feed my inspiration. You don't want me to be hungry right? **

**If you haven't had a chance, go and read my other WIP, _You Drive Me Wild; _lil hummingbird's _That_ _Doesn't Happen in Real Life_- trust me it's worth the few seconds it takes to get there. Three words: Magic Mike Edward in one of the most recent chapters. No words. And a story I'm beta'ing _Do You Remember_ by Cevvin; it's on hold right now but it's just as good as HB's :D**


	3. All in a Name

**Many thanks to lil hummingbird for being an awesome, patient, funny beta. This fic wouldn't be the same without you, ReFanSM :)**

**By the by, any and all typos are mine and mine alone. I tweaked the chapter a little after HB sent it back to me with her awesome notes. **

* * *

_All in a Name_

* * *

_"I know a girl/ Who tells so many lies/ Anything that's true/ Would truly cross her eyes/ But what that mouse is selling/ The whole world buts/And nobody smells a rat."- I Know a Girl, **John Kandor & Fred Ebb.**_

_~.~.~._

_You're my first Anthony_.

I keep replaying that phrase in my mind for the next week, over and over again. After the disastrous conversation I had with her about my lack of sex appeal, questioning her femininity, and adding on to mine I didn't dare call her back.

_I don't plan to._

_Even though I want to._

"Are you listening to me, Bossman?" Piper calls me out during our morning meeting. I blink repeatedly and stare at her trying to remember what she'd been saying while I was in Bellsland.

"What?"

Piper scoffs while rolling her eyes, "I've been standing here, telling you about the new manuscripts that Anus wants you to read and you're off somewhere in Lalaland."

_Close._

"Sorry," I clear my throat, sit up in my ergonomic chair and fix the already straightened paperwork in front of me with two stacks of heavy manuscripts in front of me. The Oak & Fig's signature powder blue color stares at me. "So these have been green lit by Eric and Jacob?"

"Yes," she clicked her tongue, "I've said this but apparently you haven't been listening to me." She clicks her tongue and gives me a look.

I fluster, looking down and taking the first manuscript in front of me. _Suburban Inferno._

"Author's from…" Piper glances at the manuscript and then her notes, "…Michigan. Nick Lowe. As the title suggests, it's about suburbia and the ins and outs of living in Stepfordland and wishing for _more._

I sigh knowing the type. This might take a while to read through the short summary even though I know Piper will give me the same information. "Is he known?"

"No, not all. First novel."

"Jacob and Eric found promise?"

"Jacob said he liked the imagery and it could be considered the male POV of _Desperate Housewives_."

I laugh at this, _Jacob Black watches too much television._ "Eric?"

"He likes Lowe's repetitive imagery."

"What does that mean?" I skim through random pages, reading one to two paragraphs each. I don't like what I see. It all seems trite and well… repetitive.

_Always the same images_. Protagonist lives somewhere undesirable, wishes for more, feels stunted/angry/bitter, achieves dream either loves it and falls into the "inferno" or hates it and comes back to the security blanket that was once his personal hell.

_Hell. Such a common euphemism…_

Piper rattles on about the manuscript while I think through my thoughts.

_Sound familiar?_ I hear myself ask. I blink, staring at the off-white and black scribbles in front of me. _Don't I sound like that archetypical character?_

_Archetypical_. Funny word.

_Typical_. Interesting word.

_Typical._

"So I'm moving back to Wellington, just so you know." Piper's voice cuts through my moment. I look up, somewhat startled by her.

"What?"

"Edward," she looks just about ready to deck me, "have you been listening to me at all?"

"Maybe." I clear my throat, fixing my already perfect tie. I can't look at her from the guilt.

"Why don't I step out for lunch and have you sort through the lot?" She waves her hand at the manuscripts.

"No wait, Piper." I clear my throat yet again, "sorry about that. I… I was just thinking about… stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yes, stuff."

"I see." She gives me a wry grin and still goes to the door, "well I still need to get something to eat. I would ignore my body's need for nourishment _only_ if you were Russell Crowe. And Russell Crowe you are not…" She opened the door, grinning broadly.

"Piper." I groaned, hating how she always brought out the Russell Crowe card. "He's an aging actor. He's not that attractive anymore."

"Says you." She quips angrily, "he's bloody hot."

"Or just bloody." I say under my breath, remembering the temper he's known for aside from his acting ability.

"What did you say, Bossman?" She steps back into the office on the offensive. _Rule one of Piper Davis: Do not mess with Russell Crowe._

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb, shutting my eyes off completely. "Does it matter?"

"Don't mess with Russell Crowe." She warns me, I open my eyes to find her pointing a reprimanding finger at me.

"I'm sorry." I roll my eyes. "I promise to back off Crowe." She watches me suspiciously; I give her a weak smile hoping she knows I mean it. _Kind of._

I get a bit of satisfaction from picking on Russell Crowe in front of her. Don't ask me why, I don't know.

"Okay." She tilts her head to the side, "but lunch is on you."

I give her a wide smile, sighing internally. I know that I need her quick notes to read through that many manuscripts by the end of the week.

"Where ever you want."

_"The White Wall."_ She tests the waters. I curse internally now. Of course she would pick the most expensive restaurant in the whole fucking city. "And I'm ordering the live Maine lobster."

"Anything for you, Piper."

"Two great meals all courtesy of two handsome men." She tells me with great satisfaction.

"What do you mean?"

"Hot date tonight." She winks conspiratorially. I grin, feeling a bit of jealously. I find myself wishing it was me saying that, even though I was happy for her. "He's in government or something."

"Politician?" I was a little surprised and suspicious all at the same time. She shrugged, "something or other. Not quite sure, to be honest."

"I see. Well, let's get you that lobster, shall we?"

~.~.~.

"What are you up to?" Emmett barrels into my office with Rose hot on his heels. I'm getting ready to leave after a long, stressful day and already imagining my glass of Sauvignon and mindless television before I fall asleep.

"Hey Cuz," Rose greets me with too much enthusiasm, I feel suspicious right away.

"What are you up to?" I call them out not into the bullshit I know they're about to throw my way. They look at each other for a beat before turning back to me seemingly innocently. "We came to say 'hello.'"

"Right." I grab my suitcase and cellphone and pocket the latter.

"I'm taking Rose to see Chicago, wanna join?" He arches an eyebrow knowingly.

"No." I answer, quickly remembering everything from his prescription, to the call, to the mortification of ruining fake sex. I can't bare the idea of watching Bells live even if I'm hidden in a sea of anonymous people.

"Edward." Rose begins, crossing her arms angrily.

"Rosalie." I counter rounding her and walking off. I have no time for this and don't plan to spare any on the subject. They follow me to the elevator bay where Piper is talking on her cellphone. The office is eerily quiet since almost everyone's already gone home. Piper hangs up angrily. "What's the matter?"

"My date canceled on me." She grits, completely livid, if I wasn't privy to her level of violence I would have been scared of her. She didn't go off the handle… much.

"Why?" Rose asks, curiously and a little sympathetic.

"Something about campaigning or whatever." She looks at me, "didn't you just have a Presidential election last November?"

"Yes," I nod, "and you voted remember?"

"Oh yeah." She blinks momentarily as if remembering a faraway memory, "I forgot."

Emmett laughs, "you and me both, Pipe."

"-er." She adds on, hating his little nickname for her. He grins and gives her a patented Emmett wink. There's no need to point out that he won't be correcting himself in the future. "Yeah well," she gives him a long look before turning back to me, "why the hell do you need to campaign if you don't need another president for another four years?"

"Never too early?" I suggest while hitting the elevator button.

"Ridiculous." She hisses before looking at Rose and Emmett as if for the first time. "You going out?" _Does she sound a little surprised?_

"They are." I clarify jutting my chin out toward Ro and Em. I'm not going to lie, I was a little affronted by Piper's shock.

"Actually," Rose jumps in coolly, "we're going to see the Fifth Avenue Theater's production of Chicago, but Edward doesn't want to join us. Maybe if you come with…?" She asks Piper with a sugary sweet voice, I narrow my eyes.

"No."

"Sure." Piper grins, completely ignoring me. "That way my night won't be ruined." She looks at me expectantly. I look back at Rose and scowl. She was going to get it.

"Piper-"

"You're not doing anything tonight, I know because I run your schedule." She tells me quickly. I redden with embarrassment. All three stare at me sympathetic triumph. _Fucking hell._ The elevator dings and the doors open wide.

"I really don't want-"

"Let's go in my car, Bossman." Piper grabs me and pushes me into the elevator followed by my pushy family.

Emmett pats me rather hard, I protest over and over. Before I can get away from all three crazy people, I'm in the lobby of the Fifth Avenue Theater waiting for curtain call.

"Don't worry." Emmett whispers, "Nothing's going to happen." He tells me as we make our way through the darkened theater being led by tiny lights on the floor.

"I hate you."

"No you don't." He chuckles under his breath, watching Piper and Rose talk about their love for the play and movie adaptation.

"Don't point her out to me." I plead not wanting to stare at Bells all through the play and imagining her quiet laugher and pity through the phone. "I don't want a face to the voice."

"So you called her?" Emmett sounds just as shocked as Piper asking if I was going out. This annoys the hell out of me but I don't show it. Instead I take a deep cleansing breath and take my seat next to Rosalie. I ask her if she wants to sit next to Emmett but she declines with a small smile.

Emmett grins at her and they sit back.

Something about this exchange makes me think something is up. I'm not sure of what and why though.

"I hope they don't have Catherine Zeta-Jones look-alike for Velma." Piper whispers to us before we're asked to be quiet.

"Or Renée Zellweger." Rose answers back as the atmosphere in the room changes.

The theater seats around a thousand people and every single one sits in quiet anticipation. Except me. My hands are clammy, my fingers cold, and my heart is beating like a jackhammer.

I idly imagine Bells as Roxie a la Zellweger. Short red curls instead of blonde, dancing the Hot Honey Rag in a short fringe dress, kitten heels, stockings…

The lights dim and the room's excitement escalates. One or two people whisper and hush each other. The play begins.

The orchestra starts the score and the swells of jazz take me away like a huge gust of wind, but not because of the exciting nostalgic music.

No.

I'm taken away by the desire to fish out Bells.

I want to see her in action.

No. I want to see her, period.

I look through the program as a dark-haired Velma Kelly begins a raspy All That Jazz.

_Carmen Torre as Velma Kelly._

_Jessica Stanley as Roxie Hart._

_Peter McGuire as Billy Flynn._

_Victoria Welch-Hunter as Matron "Momma" Morton._

_Seth Clearwater as The Bandleader._

_Alistair North as Mary Sunshine._

_Vanessa Martin as Kitty Baxter._

I skip through the leaflet, glancing briefly at each black and white headshot of every actor listed and the five sentences that make up their biography.

I notice Emmett glance down at me discreetly before turning back to the production. I almost want to ask him if Bells is Jessica Stanley or Carmen Torre.

_Actors of every kind are known to use wigs in productions and projects_. I thought to myself as Jessica delivered her lines.

The play was turning into a familiar yet slightly different blur as my traitorous mind reeled.

_Here I am searching for Bells when I wanted to forget about her. How did I end up here in the first place?_

"Watch the play Edward." Emmett whispers hurriedly and discreetly. Unfortunately for him, his deep voice carries both by nature and the stillness of the audience. A few people click their tongues at him for disturbing their experience.

He looks around apologetically but still keeping close to me. "Just watch the play." Piper and Rosalie glance at us before turning back to the play.

I clear my throat quietly, close the booklet, and watch Jessica Stanley act.

I listen intently when she speaks her lines, my mind trying to remember Bells clear voice to Jessica's deeper one.

_People sound different on the phone._ I tell myself_. They also look differently to what one imagines them to be._

I recalled Bells description of herself: a redhead. I look at Jessica, squinting to try and see if she is indeed wearing a blonde bob to fit the ambiance of the play.

Or is Bells, Carmen?

I turn to find 'Velma' but she's no longer on stage. Instead it's… I skim the booklet to find the actors' names.

_Tyler Crowley as Amos Hart._

_Alec Johnson as Prosecutor Harrison._

_Embry Call as Fred Casely._

Jessica or Roxie, I should say, killed off Fred and Roxie was explaining to Amos what happened while he was at work. Fred lies on the floor presumably dead from the bullet of Roxie's gun.

The police along with Prosecutor Harrison interview the Harts. Roxie having lied and coached Amos to take responsibility for the murder.

The Bandleader stands stage right in his well-tailored suit and a thin well-crafted baton. His smooth, deep voice rings through the theater over a slow and soothing number.

_"For her first number, Miss Roxie Hart would like to sing a song about love and devotion dedicated to her dear husband, Amos."_

Jessica stands next to Amos, near their bed, watching him lovingly. _"Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong. But he doesn't care, he'll string along. He loves me so, that funny honey of mine. Sometimes I'm down, sometimes I'm up but he follows 'round like some droopy-eyed pup. He loves me so, that funny honey of mine."_

Her singing voice is _nice_. I kill the sudden disappointment I feel when my mind realizes I romantized her voice over the phone.

I chastise myself for allowing myself to imagine the looks of Jessica Rabbit. And just like that, I'm comparing this live, real woman to a cartoon creation finding myself disappointed once again. _How ironic; they have the same first name._

I sit back trying to nurse my childish ego, finding myself following Jessica everywhere she goes like that 'droopy-eyed pup.'

The play progresses and Matron "Momma" Morton makes her introduction and sings her song. She's a tall, voluptuous redhead. Maybe Bells isn't Jessica Stanley but… I look through the book in a fury.

Emmett, Rose and Piper stare at me and glare for making noise. My mother would be disappointed in my manners but I don't care at that moment. I'm desperate to find out who Bells is against my better judgment.

_What if _she's_ Bells?_ My traitorous mind whispers.

I stare at Matron "Momma" Morton on my wilted booklet. It read, _'Victoria Welch-Hunter was born in Wichita, Kansas and studied at Cornish College of the Arts. Has worked in various theaters throughout the continental U.S. Best known for her work as Juliet…' _No mention of Dartmouth. Surely someone who went to an Ivy League would boast about it?

_Or maybe this isn't Bells?_

The last sentence in Victoria's biography caught my eye. _'Welch-Hunter is married to James J. Hunter, the director of this production.'_

I was floored, slumping into my seat.

I turned to Emmett, "is Bells even here?" I was surprised at the angry trill of my voice. It don't sound like myself.

"She is."

"Then? Where is she?" I don't care if I sound desperate anymore, even though part of me is appalled at myself.

_I'll care after I weed her out._

"I thought you said you didn't want to know who she was." Emmett asks both hurriedly to finish this conversation and with slight smugness. I roll my eyes and almost uncharacteristically click my tongue in impatience and annoyance. This is not the time to brag.

"Who. is. she?"

"Shut up, Edward." Rosalie hissed from her seat.

"Yeah Bossman. Let's chat afterwards, no?" Piper asked, siding with Rosalie. I looked at them and felt a flash of anger but quickly quenched it.

They were right to shush me; I was acting like an uncouth, desperate man.

_Desperate._

That's the perfect word to describe me isn't it?

"My favorite song is coming up. Do not speak, move or flip otherwise I'll be forced to castrate you with a rusty butter knife." Rosalie warns me as a rhythmic tap begin somewhere in the theater. The curtain had been lowered and the lights dimmed to a red glow.

_"Pop."_

_"Six."_

The Bandleader spoke again in his eerily voice overlapping six seductive voices in the background. I felt the audience gasp quietly in unison. _"And now the Six Merry Murderesses of the Cook County Jail, in their rendition of… _The Cellblock Tango_."_

The deep red curtain opened slowly, I could feel the audience hold their breath as the stage showed six women behind black bars. They all wear similar outfits in black, with fishnets and heels.

The costumes were similar yet distinctively different. Almost as if they'd been given the same uniform but each styled it to their personal taste.

_Although they all seemed to have a similar palate._ Short, jagged and titillating. I saw more skin than black material.

_"Cicero."_

_"Lipschitz."_

Rose and Piper held on to their seats, completely enthralled in the number and I would be lying if I said I wasn't with them.

_"Pop!"_ An average height, dirty blonde in short shorts and a halter top with the fishnets and heels exclaims. I turn the page to find the actresses that are currently making me forget about Bells and find a row of small headshots and shorter biographies than the starring players.

_The Six Merry Murdesses in order of appearance:_

_Kate Greene as Liz._

_Maggie Flint as Annie._

_Isabella Swan as June._

_Tanya Delani as Hunyak._

_Carmen Torre as Velma Kelly. (See page 3.)_

_Zafrina DeSilva as Mona._

I looked at the stage, identifying each person and recognizing Carmen Torre from earlier.

My eyes scan each actress getting lost in the song for a moment.

_"He had it coming, he only had himself to blame. You'd have been there if you'd have seen it. I bet you, you would have done the same!"_

My mind thought wildly on its own accord. _Maggie is a redhead. Maybe it's Maggie?_ I look at the biographies and they don't mention much other than where they were born and their most notable roles.

_'Maggie Flint was born in Portland, Oregon and studied at Julliard.'_

_Julliard?_ I looked at the older looking woman. She was shapely but obviously the real matron of the cast. _Could it be her?_

The Six Merry Murderesses went on singing, bragging about their crimes.

_"…you know some guys just can't hold their arsenic!"_ Maggie exclaimed, proudly into the audience.

The audience had taken a life of its own, completely enraptured with the beautiful actresses on stage, gasping, laughing and hissing as one. I felt my companions along with the other nine-hundred and ninety-six people sitting with and around us.

_"He had it comin'!"_

_"Pop! Six!"_

_"He had it comin'!"_

_"Cicero! Lipschitz!"_

_"He took a flower in its prime and he used it and he abused it. It was a murder, but not a crime!"_

I was in awe of all of them. Seeing them dance around in those outfits, getting swept up in the music, lyrics and atmosphere. I found myself melting into my seat along with everyone else.

And slightly turned on.

I am so focused on trying to kill my awakening libido to fully take in the next murderess. She's a slight blur of brown hair, shapely figure and strong voice.

Like the others she makes her way to the center of the stage when it's her turn to boast holding on to the movable 'iron' rungs as she takes and commands center stage.

I'm not so unfocused where I can't appreciate her costume. Short-shorts—the norm, and bandeau-style top with the fishnet stockings and black heels. She is the most revealing of all the outfits, showing off her translucent skin, defined clavicle, delicate shoulders, graceful neck and toned stomach.

_"Now I'm standing in the kitchen,"_ she starts in spoken word and with a sensual nonchalance, _"carving up a chicken for dinner minding my own business. In storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage."_ She lifts her chin, raising her voice, _"'you've been screwin' the milkman' he says. He was crazy! And he kept on screamin' 'you've screwin' the milkman!'"_

She drops her chin, a slow devious grin appears showing off a sliver of white teeth, her eyes shining. "And then he ran into my knife." She drawls, slowly. _"He ran into my knife ten times."_

As soon as she finishes her confession, she steps back and into formation to sing another round of the angry, unashamed chorus.

I soon forget of Maggie and even Victoria and Jessica and watch… I skim back to my wrinkled program and search for the third Merry Murderess.

_Isabella Swan._

I glance at her photo, a tiny thumbnail and take in her small face. It's pretty.

Not as pretty as her in person albeit I sit fifty feet from the stage, not exactly front-row seats. But that doesn't matter, she's more interesting than the list of possible Bells.

Something about her face makes me think I've seen her before but then again I scoff at myself for trying to play tricks on myself. _Yeah right._

Velma unconvincingly denies the double murder she's charged with and the ensemble on stage goes into full theatrical mode. The audience is completely under their spell, they follow each player like magnets trying to find each other.

I watch Isabella dance around, and sing at the top of her lungs. _She sounds great,_ I completely lose myself in the number and forget that she 'killed' someone in cold blood.

_Isabella_. I find myself musing. _What a beautiful name._

_Isabella._

Almost as if a switch had been flipped in my mind, I look back at Isabella's thumbnail. I glance and the three sentences written about her.

_'Isabella Swan was born in Forks, Washington. Daughter of famed Broadway actor Charlie Swan. Isabella attended and graduated from Dartmouth College, receiving her M.B.A. in Theater Arts.'_

I feel Emmett watching me. I look at him, and see him grinning to himself almost as if he's in on his own private joke.

_'She was a college classmate and she worked for this place while she went to Dartmouth…'_ Emmett's voice rings through my mind in a haze _'…she's a Washington native too…'_

Emmett and I stare at each other. I can feel the mirth behind his eyes and a storm of feelings brew in the pit of my stomach.

My neck pops when I turn back to the stage, the number is just about finished. Watching Isabella finish her routine and begin to walk stage left with Maggie and the actress that plays Mona.

_Jezebells._

_Bells._

_IsaBELLa._

"Jezebells is Isabella?" I ask Emmett in surprise; that can't be. Bells told me she was a redhead, Isabella is clearly a brunette. Her hair was cut in a shaggy bob but it's still obvious it's her natural hair.

Growing up with a fashion-obsessed 'older' sister I'd been exposed to all kinds of information only meant to torture me.

Alice had used me as her personal mannequin—when she wished to be a hairdresser sometime in high school. Because of this, I knew—unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you see it now, I knew just by how her hair shone in the light that it was her natural hair.

Emmett shrugs, grinning big and wide. "I don't know, you told me not to point her out." His smile widens and I have to stop myself from punch him in the gut.

"Shhhhhhh!" Someone hissed at us one row behind us. I felt Rosalie glaring at me. I knew I had to keep quiet for now but I knew I would be giving Bells, no, _Isabella_ a call tonight.

Once again, against my better judgment.

* * *

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